


In Exchange for an Orb

by oblongpill



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Broken Bones, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Violence, Slow Burn, Swearing, and i'll add tags and warnings as necessary, i havent decided yet if its gonna be a full enemies to friends to lovers, i'll add characters as they start appearing, or if its gonna just be enemies to friends, regardless junkrat and zenyatta are gonna get chummy with each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-05 04:04:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14608908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oblongpill/pseuds/oblongpill
Summary: Prompt: The Aussie code of mateship that survived where it could in the outback says that if someone does you a favor, you owe them. Zenyatta sent a healing orb his way in battle and healed his cracked rib. As much as it disgusts him, Junkrat owes an omnic a favor that can't be denied. But he has no idea what omnics even want.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is based completely off a prompt anonymously sent into humansofjunkertown on tumblr, and the wording of the summary is copied directly from the prompt. definitely check their blog out, since that published message is what inspired me to start this!
> 
> http://humansofjunkertown.tumblr.com/post/173469204307/the-aussie-code-of-mateship-that-survived-where-it

Blood. There was definitely blood. Was there anything else? There were at least a few broken bones for sure, likely of the ribs and arms variety. Wait, what happened to his arm? He tried but could barely move the fingers of his mechanical hand. Junkrat looked down and—yep, torn up. All his hard work on building that arm was wasted, with screws and scraps of metal scattered around the pool of blood. That’s right, he forgot he was bleeding.

He needed to get his bearings. He remembered he was in King’s Row with Talon. He remembered the mission involved Overwatch, or at least those who were trying to revive it. He remembered lots of bombs. He remembered a few stray bullets and some electricity. He remembered a gorilla. The gorilla was jumping. Some parts of him were crushed by that gorilla—who brings a gorilla on a mission anyway? He bled because of it. He was still bleeding now. What else was there? Just blood. Anything else? There was the metallic taste in his mouth—oh wait, that’s blood again.

His mind went in circles. It all came back to that goopy red stuff splurging out of him like a broken oil faucet.

God damnit, he couldn’t concentrate, it hurt so much. There was agony in simply breathing. He couldn’t even move without feeling a sharp stinging pain on the side of his torso. He only thanked God that the vile liquid was warm. It at least gave him some semblance of comfort.

Apparently, God heard him. A light started to block his vision. It was a beautiful yellow light that surrounded all his senses, numbing him to his pain. Is this heaven? Truthfully, he thought he’d go to the big man downstairs. He also remembered hearing about a white light, not a yellow one. Huh. The books must’ve got it all wrong, he supposed.

As he lay dying, he thought of the person he’d leave behind. Junkrat uttered his last words, “That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.” Clever, he thought. He decided it was his time and drifted off into unconsciousness.

Pig? Maybe he had a pet. Zenyatta loomed over the body of the man and quickly came to a few conclusions: this civilian was tall, probably weighed quite a bit, and would likely get more injured if he was dragged. Zenyatta had no upper body strength to fully carry him back to the dropship, and he feared that leaving him alone could be fatal. He supposed he could just wait for the other Overwatch members to come find him and help him carry the body. He hoped they would be as hospitable as him in allowing a stranger to board. Stranger or not, this man needed help.

That dropship couldn’t be too far away.

* * *

 

“Oye gordito, where’s your friend?”

Roadhog stopped in his tracks as he was about to enter the Talon dropship. Shit. He knew it’d been too quiet. He looked around and realized that no, Junkrat was not catching up to them like he thought.

Sombra laughed at Roadhog’s confusion. “El mono le llevó,” she said. She was soon nudged roughly by a man in black. “I was just kidding, Reyes.”

“We’re leaving without him,” Reyes said. “We’re not staying here just for that rat.”

Roadhog shook his head and grunted. He knew he was going to regret this. “I’ll go look for him.”

“We’ll leave you, too,” Reyes said. “We can’t afford to stay here forever.”

With one last huff, Roadhog shrugged and stepped off the ship. That was his boss he was missing after all, and he’d even go as far as to say it was his best friend. He’d find a way back to Talon headquarters some other way, and if not, they weren’t bound to them by paper or anything. They were junkers, not suits. They were used to adapting.

The dropship began to take off without him as Sombra waved mockingly. “Bye gordi, I’ll miss you!” He’d actually miss her too. Sombra was a lot like Junkrat in her playfulness and he developed quite a soft spot for her. It also helped that she was amazing at finding useful information for him. If only she could find where Junkrat was now.

If Roadhog remembered correctly, he’d last seen him near the subway station. It was quite some ways away, but he eventually came across a faint yellow light glowing in the distance illuminating two silhouettes. As he approached them, he found the worst thing he could think of.

He grabbed his hook and threw it to the hunk of metal standing over his boss, catching him. As he pulled him closer, he grabbed him by his thin little arms. “You got a lot of nerve showing up here alone, omnic.”

 _So this must be the pig_ , Zenyatta thought. He only had a few seconds to study the mask before the giant of a man raised an equally giant gun to his head. He knew King’s Row was a place full of bigotry towards people like him, so he wasn’t entirely surprised he’d met someone who was offended just at the sight of him. “Please sir,” Zenyatta said, “I am merely healing your friend.” His calm voice completely betrayed his fear. He quickly summoned the harmony orb he’d given the dying man and placed it onto his assailant as proof of his good intentions.

Roadhog immediately felt a wave of peace when the ball of light landed over his head. After a few moments of thinking, he reluctantly released the omnic. The omnic once again summoned the orb and placed it back onto Junkrat. Roadhog made his way to him. He was unconscious and badly hurt with bones in his arm sticking outside of his skin. It seemed to be fixing itself with the skin melding, albeit very slowly. This was no doubt due to help from the mysterious orb.

Zenyatta watched over him before extending an arm out to the human. “My name is Zenyatta. I know where we can take your friend to heal somewhere safe.”

Roadhog stared blankly at the robotic hand held in front of him. What did he have to lose? He could always scrap him if the tin can did anything fishy. Although with the major favor he did, he may just have to hold himself back. He knew Junkrat wouldn’t be too thrilled about it and its consequences, but there were no real options left. “Roadhog,” he said. He grabbed Zenyatta’s hand and shook it firmly. “Guess we’ve got a truce.”

“Indeed,” Zenyatta said. “If you could carry him, I’ll gladly show you the way.”

The way to safety was a lot closer than Roadhog expected. Just a few turns over towards the nearby hotel, they came across a dropship, much smaller and more discreet than Talon’s. Despite its discretion, the side of the door bore the unmistakable logo of an organization disbanded years ago. So, this omnic must be working with Overwatch. Interesting. Depending on how Talon would see it, this could be a good way of infiltrating their base, though that was always more of Sombra’s job. He’d work out the details later. Inside the ship was a gorilla and a young woman.

“Zenyatta, I was so worried about you,” the woman said. “I thought I’d have to look all over for you!” She turned her attention to Roadhog. “Who are these fellas?”

“This is Roadhog. I believe they are civilians who got mixed up in the fight,” Zenyatta said. “One of them is fatally injured. Please make room for them, Tracer.”

“Aye aye, captain! Move over Winston, we’ve got two new passengers!”

Winston did as he was told, but not without looking over suspiciously at the pair. This must have been the monkey Sombra was referencing before, and Roadhog had no doubt he had something to do with Junkrat’s current condition.

“I don’t think they’re just civilians,” Winston said. “That one was shooting grenades in my direction.” He pointed toward Junkrat.

“He just does that,” Roadhog said. “Real twitchy. Likes to shoot things, never knows what he’s doin’. Radiation’s gone to his head.” He was never very good at lying on the spot, usually depending on intimidation to get things. Luckily this wasn’t an _entire_ lie. Although when everyone looked at him puzzled, he clarified, “Australian.” Immediately, everyone understood.

Even with everyone scooted over, there was not much room to move. To even fit, Roadhog had Junkrat still carried on his lap. It was claustrophobic and Roadhog’s body tensed up, grasping onto Junkrat’s.

With the ship taking off, Junkrat woke up upon feeling the grip and the turbulence. He looked much better with his bones finally popped into his body, though still painfully wounded. “Holy dooley, is this heaven?” He held his flesh hand out to touch Roadhog’s mask. “Did you die too?”

Roadhog remained silent and uneasy.

“Y’know I saw this light and it was real pretty. Did you see it too? It looked kinda like this one,” Junkrat said, weakly pointing up to the harmony orb still floating above him.

“You’re not dead, love,” Tracer said. “Zenyatta saved your life!” She pointed over to the corner.

Junkrat looked over to find a hunk of metal waving in his direction. He looked back up at Roadhog, hoping this was some cruel joke. “Roadie, tell me it ain’t true. Tell me I’m dead—anything but this.”

Roadhog shook his head and spoke with defeat. “You’re alive.” He sighed heavily. “And he saved you.”

“Bugger.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The junkers are finally on the base, but who's going to fix Junkrat's arm?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so stuff actually sort of starts happening here. i know its kinda slow, but more interactions between everyone are gonna come with new chapters. anyway, hope u like it!

Okay, so an omnic saved Junkrat’s life. Not a big deal or anything, right? He’d only need to make up a favor of equal caliber. Alright, maybe it was a big deal after all. At least he could breathe again, even if it was still slightly painful. Whatever this ball of light was made of, he figured it couldn’t be too different from Moira’s back at Talon’s base. Admittedly, this one was much more pleasant. Moira and her science experiments, though very admirable, were always a bit on the freaky side. Speaking of which, where was she? Where was Sombra and Reyes, too? 

His thoughts were quickly interrupted by the cheery woman beside him. “By the way, my name’s Tracer. Lena when I’m off missions,” she said winking. “That’s Zenyatta, and that’s Winston.” He was all too familiar with that oversized chimp. If that thing didn’t fight him, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt enough for a robot of all things to come save him. He made a mental note to repay the action to that monkey someday.

He extended his mechanical arm for a handshake before realizing it looked like a crushed mess. It was hard to tell it was a hand to begin with. God, he hoped there was a workshop wherever they were headed. He corrected himself and gave out his flesh hand—it made an amazing recovery and had significantly less bones sticking out from what he last remembered, though it still stung like a blunt hot knife—which Tracer happily took. “Name’s Junkrat. Jamison when I’m off missions.” He returned the wink, which she seemed to appreciate. “So, uh, where am I exactly?” 

“You’re in an Overwatch dropship,” Zenyatta said. Overwatch? Wasn’t he fighting Overwatch? Junkrat would have to ask Roadhog for clarification later. “Do not worry, we are taking you to safety. There is someone on the base who would be much better suited than me to heal you efficiently. It would also give you a place to rest for as long as you need.” He rolled his eyes at the statement. How the hell could he take this omnic seriously? Much less an omnic that apparently couldn’t even heal him correctly? Hell, he even admitted he couldn’t do it as well as someone else. What was the point, then? If he couldn’t get the job done, he shouldn’t have bothered starting it at all. Maybe he’d half-ass his repayment of the favor, just like how the omnic half-assed saving his life. That would take some burden off his shoulders. He caught himself staring at the omnic and moved his attention to the gorilla. It was squinting over at him and Roadhog, who was desperately looking for something in his side bag.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t want to overstay their welcome,” Winston said.

“Aw rubbish,” Tracer said. “Overwatch is all about helping people. There’s no time limit on hospitality! And if they try anything funny, we’ve always got the best scientist around to knock some sense into them.” She playfully nudged Winston, though it didn’t ease his suspicious stare. 

The rest of the ride was mostly filled with light conversation between Tracer and Junkrat. The two found out they had an affinity for explosives, but it’d be an eternity before Tracer would even consider letting Junkrat inspect her bomb. Aside from that, it was humid and crowded and dusty and dark. There was a collective sigh of relief when the ship finally landed. Roadhog was the first to get out of that flying death trap and find a place to lean on, catching his breath after putting Junkrat down. Winston excused himself, saying he had “things he needed to attend to” and uncomfortably left the scene.

Junkrat found he could actually walk. He was surprised to find that his legs didn’t take much of the initial damage from his encounter with the ape. With a bit too much confidence, he took one long stride before keening in pain at a sudden sharpness in his torso and arm. When he looked up, he discovered something—or rather, the lack of it. “Wh-where’d that little light ball go?” It suddenly hurt to speak and his breaths were sporadic. Each word was a stab to the gut with extra salt poured over the wound. As he looked around, he found his answer. It was now lazily floating above Roadhog, who’s breathing had regulated, though he remained hunched over.

“My apologies,” Zenyatta said. Once Roadhog seemed better, Zenyatta quickly summoned the orb back to Junkrat. The numbing sensation took over once again. Oh how he hated that he’d be reliant on this thing. How dare that tin can trick him into thinking he was almost fully recovered, only to then take it away from him? He swore he’d make him into scrap once he was healthy again. “I believe your friend might be claustrophobic,” Zenyatta said. 

“You don’t know shit about him,” Junkrat spat. He stumbled over to Roadhog, who was still looking for something to no avail in his bag and was bombarded by concerned questions from Tracer. Junkrat reached into his own side bag and pulled out a yellow can. “The spare’s with me,” he said, handing it to Roadhog and leaving him with a pat on the arm before returning to Zenyatta. “Alright bot, where’s the better healer?”

Zenyatta waited before he answered his question. He watched Roadhog inhale the contents of the can until he stood up straight and wove off any worries Tracer brought up, though still coughing a bit. _Must be asthma_ , Zenyatta thought. Roadhog soon walked over to Junkrat and uttered a quick “thanks” before gesturing for them to get a move on. Zenyatta stared at Roadhog and was met by a glare back before he was caught and interrupted by snapping fingers.

“Oi, don’t start getting jealous just because he can breathe and you can’t, you artificial piece of junk,” Junkrat said. “C’mon now, where’s that better healer you mentioned? And for the love of God, tell me they’re human and not some glorified computer like you.”

So, he was one of _those_. These types of people were always the biggest challenges, but what could Zenyatta really expect? Not only did he find him in King’s Row, he was also Australian. He’d honestly be surprised if Junkrat _didn’t_ resort to petty insults and aggression. “I assure you, she is human.” He began leading the two through the base and thought to humor the subject the other brought up. “To be fair, we are all over glorified computers in one way or another. Human brains and computer systems both transmit information very similarly. And if we are to compare the two, computer wires actually communicate electricity faster than human nervous systems.”

Junkrat was not about to get lectured by a robot, especially not with the insinuation that he was the same as a computer, much less a slower version of one. He raised his flesh hand and clenched it in a fist, but before he could do anything, the familiar pain spiked through him. The yellow orb dissipated.

“I ask that you rethink your decision.” With a wave of his hands, Zenyatta brought the orb back to Junkrat and the pain was gone.

“You’ve gotta stop doing that,” Junkrat said.

“There was no need for violence. I was simply making conversation.”

“Roadie, are you just going to let that thing talk to me like that?” Junkrat looked up with pleading eyes to his bodyguard. Instead of throwing a punch to the omnic’s facial plate like Junkrat had hoped, Roadhog merely huffed, and it was all Junkrat needed to remember why he was even here. “Fuck. Okay, when you’re right, you’re right.”

Zenyatta tilted his head in confusion. It was interesting watching these two interact, and he could’ve sworn they’d known each other since birth with how well they seemed to understand each other.

“Listen, we got off on the wrong foot,” Junkrat said. He swallowed hard and grit his teeth. “You saved my life. And you didn’t have to. So I owe you.” He forced a smile and was visibly sweating. Meanwhile, Roadhog turned to conceal his laughter.

“Please, that won’t be necessary. I do not help people in expectance of repayment.”

“Listen,  _mate_.” Junkrat poked Zenyatta’s chest plate harshly. “I don’t know how it works around here, but where I’m from, we’ve got a code of honor. If you’re giving something away for free, you’re guaranteed not to survive. Everything’s a trade, everything’s done in equal exchange. You scratched my back, now I scratch yours.”

“Jamison, I really don’t need you to—“

“Oh, shut it. You omnics took enough from us, you’re not taking away our Aussie code, too. My word is my word, and that’s final.” He crossed over his heart for extra emphasis. “I owe you, like it or not.”

Zenyatta looked up at Roadhog for confirmation, who nodded his head. “I see,” he said. “We can discuss this later.” He would have a lot to think about with this new information. He really wasn’t one to ask for much, so it was in his best interest to get this favor over with as soon as possible.

They walked through a hallway and Zenyatta stopped in front of a door. “This is it. I’ve healed many of your internal injuries, but she is exceptionally well at taking care of surface wounds obtained in battle. I am sure she can fix that arm of yours as well.” Junkrat absolutely lit up at this news.

Zenyatta knocked on the door and they heard a muffled voice say, “Come in!”

The three walked into a cluttered space filled with large pieces of metal and tools. It smelled like old wood and rust. It was hard to tell if some of the projects in the room were freshly started or abandoned midway. Junkrat could appreciate this sort of thing, always wanting to build more than he could handle but somehow getting the jobs done in the end. He immediately felt at home. Sounds of clanks and meows filled the messy room, the source of which was towards the corner. It was a young muscular girl working on her table surrounded by a few cats. She moved over to reveal someone on her table, having him sit up. He looked like another omnic—a very fancy and advanced one at that. Great, this place was just riddled with those things.

“Alright Genji, you’re good as new,” the girl said. 

“Thank you very much,” Genji said, then looked up at the visitors and bowed his head. “Hello, master.” 

The girl turned around to greet those who came in. “Oh, Zenyatta, it’s you! I was going to call you when Genji was done with his checkup. His joints should be moving a lot easier now.” She looked over at the two new faces. “Who are they? New recruits?”

“Good afternoon, Brigitte.” Zenyatta gestured toward the junkers beside him. “Not new recruits, just people in need. This is Roadhog and Junkrat. They got caught up in the fight of today’s mission and Junkrat got severely injured. I thought it best to bring him here to you if your schedule allows it.”

She looked over at the odd pair and found that her cats took a liking to Roadhog, who’d knelt to pet them. At first glance, Junkrat’s injuries were not the worst she’d seen, but the arm would take a few hours to replicate its original form. She thought about it for a few seconds. If it was anyone other than Zenyatta, she’d have likely said no, but there was some form of solidarity between the only two healers in the base. The least she could do was give him this favor. “Sure, it’s early enough. Genji was my last appointment for the day, I can take another one.” When Genji got up, she cleaned off the tools from her table. She retrieved a lollipop from the corner of her workspace and handed it to him. “For being such a good patient,” she said. He took it thankfully and made his way to his master, tensing up as he crossed the two strangers.

“Thank you very much, I’ll leave you to it,” Zenyatta said. He left the room with Genji following behind and took the harmony orb with him. Once again, Junkrat’s pain grew to a disgustingly high level.

He only hoped Brigitte was as good at numbing it as the robot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how will brigitte play into all this? how will roadhog’s asthma? what’s winston off doing? and more importantly, just what does junkrat have to do to repay the favor??
> 
> find out in future installments!
> 
> lmk what you think of this so far! check out my tumblr, too ;o
> 
> http://censorship.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji gets a lollipop and worries about his master. Junkrat gets his arm fixed. Roadhog gets an... *interesting* message from someone who "misses him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! so i made this chapter a lot longer than the others because i really wanna jump into the main junkrat/zenyatta interactions (which i believe should start happening next chapter if i dont screw up lol). but yeah, i think this is a pretty necessary chapter because it sets up a lot of premises that i have in mind for this story. hope you enjoy, and please leave a comment! those are always super encouraging!

“You are troubled, Genji.”

Genji’s gaze on his lollipop wavered for just a moment. A soft yellow light took over and relaxed his body. “Please do not expend your energy for me, master.” He waved off the harmony orb, which obediently faded away.

“Forgive me for worrying. You’re very tense.” Zenyatta looked over at the red candy. “Do you miss her?”

Genji shrugged. The memory of Angela wasn’t exactly the cause of his discomfort at that moment, but he thought to humor Zenyatta’s assumption. “We keep in touch. I don’t blame her for not answering the recall.” A lot of friends didn’t answer the recall. He tried writing to them, and many replied, but some also didn’t. He toyed with the wrapping of the lollipop. Little illustrations of cherries littered the eerily familiar paper. “Angela always saved these in the back for Jesse and me. These were his favorites. I liked the blue ones best, though.”

“Would you have preferred blue raspberry? I can go back and ask Brigitte to trade it for you.”

“No.” Genji reached up to his mask and unfastened it. He stuffed the lollipop in his mouth; his jaw ached horrendously at the sudden movement and lack of use. It’d been a while since he last consumed solid food. Normally those days, though painful, were reserved for special meals. “You see,” he asked. His words came out slurred from the fullness in his mouth and the stinging pain it caused him. Tears pricked the sides of his eyes. “I like cherry. No need to go back.”

Zenyatta reached out to him and gently placed a hand on his jaw. A subtle healing aura emanated from his cold metal palm and Genji hummed appreciatively at the relief. He took the lollipop out of his mouth and reveled in the soothing feeling. Zenyatta rarely ever saw Genji’s face, let alone touched it. Zenyatta’s sensors picked up its texture: rough, grainy, dry, chapped at the lips. He wondered if Genji was keeping himself hydrated.

“Would you like some water? Brigitte has plenty and we have not walked far from her—”

“No, I’m fine,” Genji snapped. He caught himself and bowed his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to use that tone.” He punctuated his apology by popping the candy back into his mouth in hopes that it would keep him from speaking up again and potentially revealing his true concerns.

Zenyatta lifted his chin and plucked the lollipop out from his mouth. He spoke in a sweetly soft tone, easing Genji immediately. “Genji, I sense that you don’t want me back in Brigitte’s workshop. Please correct me if I’m wrong.” He remained silent. “I see. I should hope Brigitte, herself, does not alarm you. Am I right in assuming her guests are causing this tension in you?”

“Master,” Genji started, “I do not trust them. The way they looked at me—the way they looked at you. You said they were from your mission in King’s Row—”

“They are from Australia.”

“Even worse! Don’t you think you should avoid them? Their views on omnics are bound to be distasteful at best. You cannot expect to change them, no matter how casual or friendly you act.”

He did have a point, and Zenyatta was not a fool to pretend the junkers’ biases didn’t exist; yet the need to interact and help others was overpowering. If that was his downfall, so be it.

“What color are your eyes, Genji?”

If Genji hadn’t already been used to Zenyatta’s strange ways of changing topics to teach a lesson, he would have made a mocking face. But he knew the drill and answered a quick, “Brown” with a sigh.

“And has the color changed since I first met you?”

“No.”

“Yet you see differently through them, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Even your gaze upon me is much softer than the first time we met.”

It was true. One regret Genji would always have was his aggression toward Zenyatta and his teachings at first.

“I cannot expect to change the core aspects of someone, especially if they were born under specific circumstances,” Zenyatta said. “For instance, I cannot change your eye color. In fact, I’ve never intended to change anyone.” He placed his hand on Genji’s shoulder. “That includes you. But I do intend to help others think in different perspectives and better themselves. If one changes as a result, then they changed only because they have chosen to do so themselves. They hold the credibility. I’ve simply provided some of the resources to make it possible.”

Genji puffed. “I worry for you.”

“I appreciate your concern—I truly do if you can believe me. But just because I strive for peace does not mean I am defenseless. I am willing—and more importantly, prepared—to break peace if it should ever jeopardize my safety and others’.”

Genji stood quiet and reflected upon Zenyatta’s words. He’d seen him fight before, though he did it seldomly, and he thought him more than capable enough of handling himself physically. Emotionally and mentally, he wasn’t so sure. “Are you sure you can handle these men,” Genji asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m willing to try. I’m aware of Australia’s history. Their attitudes towards omnics are understandable given the circumstances they were raised under. But this is not Australia. This is Overwatch. I brought Junkrat to heal here of my own accord. I should hope that speaks to them in some way. If I am the one to challenge their perspectives on omnics outside of their upbringing, then I would be honored. At the very least, I’d like to lift some of the discomfort from their shoulders while they are staying with us. They need someone to rely on while they’re here. I am happy to be the first to extend a hand in their direction.”

“And if they resist your hand?”

“You resisted mine.”

With that, Genji understood and returned to eating the lollipop. He knew first hand just how stubborn and dedicated his master was. He somehow had a counterargument to every point anyone brought up. He could have sworn Zenyatta was never wrong, even when he supposedly was. “Just be careful,” he said, sucking away at the overwhelming cherry flavor.

He really should have asked for blue raspberry.

* * *

 

Vision was borderline useless at this point with everything blurring together. Every subtle shift of brown in the room was a single blob and every red might as well have been engulfed by the warm toned walls. The only things he could anchor his eyes to were the contrasting little blue dots in the corner on what appeared to be a table. They were surrounded by some red ones too, but those weren’t nearly as interesting. Junkrat was dizzy, but at least he was numb. The anesthesia was quick to take effect and he thanked his lucky stars that he wasn’t afraid of needles or else he swore he would’ve had a heart attack. His walleyed stare was cut short by a voice.

“You want a lollipop after your checkup, too?”

The voice came from above. It was feminine, kind, and all too trusting.

“Y’got grape?” Junkrat spilled the words more than he said them, like the drool running down the side of his mouth.

“Sorry, I’ve just got cherry and blue raspberry.”

“Cherry.”

“You hate cherry.” Who said that? This voice was much gruffer and deeper than the previous one. Less trusting, but somehow more of an intimate feeling. He knew this voice, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It apparently knew him better than he thought. Come to think of it, he did hate cherry.

“Michael? ‘S that you?”

“Mako.”

“Marco?”

“Polo.”

“It _is_ you!” Junkrat looked around trying to locate that big lug of his. He could only make out a huge blob crouched on the floor surrounded by some other, much smaller, blobs. Before he could say anything else, the closer figure pushed his head down gently.

“Hold on, I’m still patching you up. After this, I’ll take care of that arm.” His arm? What happened to his arm? He moved his flesh hand over to his prosthetic, but only grabbed handfuls of air. He moved his hand up a bit and encountered a lone stub with old, rough scars. Where the hell did his arm go? He hated when his memory fucked up at the most crucial moments. Junkrat thrashed frantically trying to locate his missing limb. He lost it once, he wasn’t going to lose it again. God damnit, why did he paint it orange? All it did was blend in with the browns and reds in the room. Why couldn’t it have been blue? Evidently, his thrashing wasn’t the strongest because the girl standing above him pinned him down easily.

“It’s okay, stay still. The sooner we’re done here, the sooner you can have your arm back,” the girl said. Right after that, he felt a cold cream-like substance applied somewhere on his torso where he remembered some of his previous pain lingering. It stung just a little bit, but it pleasantly woke up his nerves in that area. “See? Doesn’t that feel better?”

Junkrat sighed dreamily. He felt his vision slowly coming back to him with a revitalized spirit. He really should have gotten this girl’s name before all this. Oh wait, he did. What was it again? He threw a shot in the dark. “Thanks Sally.”

“Brigitte.”

“Brianna?”

“Brigitte.”

“Baguette?”

“Croissant.”

“Now you’re playing my kind of game!”

The two laughed entirely too much at that. “Stop, you’ll encourage him,” Roadhog said. He didn’t mean it, and he actually loved that sort of dumb jokester attitude, but of course he wouldn’t admit it. If he did, Junkrat would do it tenfold if possible, and too much of a good thing never turned out right. Roadhog turned his attention to the cats surrounding him on the floor, making sure each of them got equal attention. With each stroking of fur in the cramped, dusty place, he leaned forward just a bit more in hopes of getting more air. With each lean came an exacerbated sigh.

“Oi Hoggie, take a breather outside, will ya?” Junkrat’s vision still wasn’t the best, but hearing the constant heavy breathing was getting to be too much. “This place ain’t good for ya. And leave the cats in here, I bet they’re not helpin’ you.”

He hated when Junkrat was right. He normally wouldn’t care too much and deal with the consequences later if it meant he could do what he wanted now, but he remembered that he ran out of cans earlier and he’d need to actually watch out for himself for once. He got up and motioned toward Brigitte to let him know if he needed anything. With a few coughs and wheezes, he left the room holding one white fluffy cat in his arms after Brigitte nodded her permission. Bringing just one with him couldn’t hurt, right? Even if this particular one was being a bit fussy.

Roadhog sat outside on some crates in the open air. It was such a change from that room, he could almost physically feel his lungs getting cleansed by the freshness of it all. Junkers were never really meant to last in confined spaces anyway. The sun was almost finished setting and he thanked the heavens that this long day was almost over. He wouldn’t even mind sleeping right here as opposed to a real bed. It was a nice reminder of life in the outback, sleeping on rocks and hard sand. It wasn’t comfortable in the least, but it was a simpler time. It somehow felt more genuine than anything he experienced outside of it. Junkertown wasn’t the best place in the world. Hell, it was filled with the worst of the worst and a shit ruler; he’d gladly see it burn down. But he’d be a shittier liar if he said he didn’t miss it just a little bit.

He stayed there for what seemed like mere minutes, though the sun’s position said otherwise. Dusk fell over him and the once restless cat napped soundly on him. As he pet Mitzi—he recently learned the cat’s name—he felt a vibration in his pocket snap him back to reality. Begrudgingly reaching into it, he pulled out a small device with the caller I.D. blocked. He had a feeling he knew who it was, though. With the click of a button, a small holographic figure emerged from the device.

“Gordi!”

“Hey.” His voice was groggy and gross from sleepiness.

“I told you I’d miss you,” Sombra said. Funny enough, he believed her. “How’s my favorite pork chop doing?”

“Watch it.”

She seemingly brushed off the warning. “So what happened since we left you this morning? Did you rob a pet store?” She looked at the fat cat Roadhog was petting on his lap. He defensively put the cat down to the side where it curled up next to him.

“What do you want?”

“What, a girl can’t ask well-meaning questions?” She made an overdramatic pout, then laughed it off. “Okay, okay, you caught me.” It’s Sombra. Of course she wanted something. “Truth is, I tracked you down from this device. Turns out you’ve been moving a lot and you’re in a pretty interesting location right now.”

He didn’t even think to question where he was. So much happened so quickly, he barely had time to process anything. He couldn’t look out of the dropship earlier, so he couldn’t get a very good sky view of where they landed. If anything, he thought to ask about it tomorrow. “Where’s that,” he asked.

“You’re in the old Overwatch base, Watchpoint: Gibraltar. I’m guessing the Overwatch members we fought saved you?”

“Maybe.”

“Y la rata?”

“He’s getting treated.”

“How bad was he hurt?”

“Almost died.”

“Que pena.”

“Omnic saved him.”

Sombra’s immediate reaction was a lot less compassionate than Roadhog hoped, but what could he really expect. She laughed so hard that Roadhog debated covering the device to muffle the sound so no one would him and get suspicious. “Holy shit, that must hurt his ego,” she said, wiping a tear away.

“Don’t remind him.” Now that Junkrat was on his mind, he remembered he should probably be checking on him as his bodyguard. He desperately wanted this conversation over with so he could see his boss and then promptly go the hell to sleep. “What did you want?”

Sombra fiddled with her nails before pulling up photos of people, some of which Roadhog met today. “These are the people who answered the Overwatch recall.” She pointed to one section of the list of photos. She then pointed to the other section and said, “These are people who weren’t in Overwatch before, but are joining it now. Some of these people might be on that base, some might not. There may even be people on the base who aren’t on this photo list. All I want you to do is look around and confirm who’s actually there. It gives me a good idea of who’s already committed to this Overwatch recall thing and where they’re hanging out.”

“Did Talon just come up with this plan today?”

Sombra shrugged. “Talon doesn’t know about this. I come up with a lot of things on my own.” Roadhog stared blankly. “What? A girl needs her hobbies. I need an inventory of information to make trades, don’t I? I was going to get this roster filled out at some point anyway, but since you’re there, why not help your best friend out?” She gave a wink.

“Already helped him out by bringing him here to get healed. What did you do?”

“Oh, don’t be that way. I told you I’d miss you.” Roadhog wasn’t satisfied. “Okay, so I’m not your best friend. But I am a friend, and friends do things for each other.” Now he was intrigued. “Help me fill out this roster, and any other little errand I give you while you’re there, and I can persuade Akande to bring a dropship your way.”

Roadhog laughed. “That’s it? They got dropships here.”

“And,” Sombra continued, “on your way back to Talon HQ, I’d be more than happy to part with some information about the Junker Queen.” She had that devious smile that she only pulled out for the big guns. She had dirt on people that could ruin entire lives and countries.

“What kind of information?”

“The good kind. The blackmailing kind. The ‘I may or may not have evidence of her negotiating with an omnic politician over selling cheaper mechs at higher prices to civilians’ kind. Sound convincing enough?” Roadhog’s heart stopped. It was too scandalous to blindly accept. He would definitely need to see the evidence to believe it, and so would anyone else in Junkertown, but damn Sombra really came through. Oh, the potential of what he could do with that secret. “Help me out, and I’ll help you. Deal?”

“Deal.” As if it needed to be said.

“Well, puerquito, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you. You know the number to call.” With one last wink, she hung up and her holographic figure dissipated. The only light sources now were the moon and the stars. He needed to see Junkrat.

* * *

 

It took a few hours as expected, but Junkrat’s new arm turned out looking pretty decent. It wasn’t an exact copy, but it was a more successful replica than what Brigitte thought she could accomplish, especially considering she had to fill in a few gaps with the original being broken beyond repair and whatnot.

“Here, pick out that lollipop you wanted,” she said. She handed him the cup and Junkrat greedily took three: two blue and one red for Roadhog. Too tired to tell him otherwise, she put the cup back and started cleaning up the table Junkrat was just laying on.

“Thanks, Brittany—”

“Brigitte.”

“That’s what I said.” He dusted himself off and looked around at the shop. It was messy and cluttered and absolutely beautiful. He thought to ask just one question. “Hey, you don’t happen to have a spare workshop around here, do ya? Us engineers can’t live without tinkering around in one, ya know?” He nudged her muscular arm and she smiled weakly. How Junkrat could keep his energy up for so long, no one could tell.

“Technically,” she said, “this is Papa’s workshop, but he’s out on a mission right now so I get to use it full time. I like to work in here because mine is more cramped.” If this place wasn’t cramped enough already to her, then he wondered just how small hers was. “So I guess mine is the spare. I don’t use it much even when Papa’s here, so you’re free to check it out. It’ll be dusty, though.”

“Dusty is my middle name! Jamison Junkrat Dusty Fawkes, the next up and coming Overwatch engineer!” He quite liked the sound of that. Attaching any organization name to the title always made it sound more official and recognizable. Wait, wasn’t he fighting Overwatch earlier? Details, details.

Brigitte offered a slight chuckle. “Okay, I’ll show you the room tomorrow. Right now, let’s get you somewhere to rest. You still can’t move much without reopening your wounds, so get plenty of sleep tonight.”

As she finished putting her equipment away, Roadhog stepped in. He set Mitzi down, who was quick to find her bed next to the other cats.

“Roadie, look at her,” Junkrat said, extending his new and improved arm. “I’ve never seen her shine so bright before. Brings a tear to me eye.” Roadhog looked up and gave Brigitte a thumbs up and a nod.

She ushered the duo outside of the room and turned off all the lights, shutting it down for the night. “We have some spare rooms where previous members used to sleep. I’m sure you guys can stay there.” She was improvising everything. With the sudden—and she’ll be honest, a bit inconsiderate—drop off of a new patient and his entourage, it became her responsibility to show them where they’d rest. She’d need to bring that up to Zenyatta at some point, though she knew he meant no ill will in the handing over of these guests. Just a note to avoid this in the future. Being one of the only support members was hard enough as is, and she couldn’t exactly do medical miracles in as quick a time as Overwatch’s previous main medic. Angela left large shoes to fill in, but a need to fill them nonetheless.

Brigitte made sure to give them the option between two separate rooms or a single room with two beds; they took the latter. There was some stray dirt and pieces of chipped paint from the walls on the floor, which hadn’t been visited in some time. The vacancy led to lack of attention and maintenance, but the junkers didn’t seem to mind much. She gave a goodnight and went off to her own room.

Junkrat and Roadhog were quick to go to sleep. Even Junkrat, who normally couldn’t last a whole night without waking up, was relatively calm. The long day and huge mix of events clearly tired him out. Roadhog, on the other hand, slept, but not as well. He tossed and turned nearly all night, sitting up at times trying to get more air. He even woke Junkrat up once, which was a first for both of them. At some point, he took the mask off, and it didn’t help much. He was used to sleeping with air pipes that connected to his mask, which he left back at Talon HQ. Sleep apnea was not a kind thing, but he hoped one person on the Overwatch team would at least be kind enough to help him deal with it. Even after doing so much for them, he’d talk to this member in the morning and come up with an extra good favor to repay them with. For now, he’d just have to suffer through the first night.

* * *

 

“Hmm, that’s what I thought.” The computer monitor glowed against Winston’s glasses, reflecting the names of two familiar faces. The wanted posters were just uncanny enough to recognize them, albeit a few glaring and misleading inaccuracies in the illustrations. Those were likely what caused him to take so long connecting the dots. “Athena, how much money is on these two’s heads?”

“Twenty-five million dollars each.”

“They must’ve done a lot to earn that kind of price.” Winston huffed at the screen. “They must have worked for a lot of people.” He considered his options. “And we’ve got them right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dang, roadhog just has horrible luck with breathing problems. at least its gonna open the door for him to interact with someone special! anyway, the good stuff is coming next chapter (hopefully) just please bear with these more introductory chapters so i can set stuff up to get the ball rolling. lmk what you think and feel free to give me suggestions or critiques! please leave a comment if you can/want, its always super encouraging and i love knowing what people think and what people speculate will happen
> 
> also check out my tumblr: http://censorship.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> check out my tumblr and let me know what you think of this fic! please feel free to send in suggestions or critiques, because i strive to better my writing and characterizations. i have an outline of this fic done from start to finish, but i'm fully open to new ideas and making changes. thanks!
> 
> http://censorship.tumblr.com/
> 
> (btw, "el mono le llevó" means "the monkey took him.")
> 
> (also, "gordito" and "gordi" are affectionate terms for loved ones, they basically mean "chubby")


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